


Ride with the tough guys

by Bananas45



Series: Bad ambassador [2]
Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Blood and Gore, Casual Sex, I didn't read never say die, Love Confessions, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 22:05:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17691950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bananas45/pseuds/Bananas45
Summary: “Alex Rider” Yassen said coldly. “You’ve been a spy for over half a decade. I think you should know when something Is a bad idea and now” Yassen threw his mug down into the sink with a clatter “We’re both going to die because you couldn’t keep your pants up and just think for once”





	Ride with the tough guys

**Author's Note:**

> I spent almost a year trying to write down my pre-planned part two...All I needed was a bit of wine and a sleepless night apparently.   
> I love Yassen so much I'll never stop wanting to write about it him.

Retiring at 18 was not a thing Alex Rider ever thought he would be doing.   
But then again, most things in his life were things he didn’t expect to be doing. After the events in Burma - events Alex was never fully allowed to understand or process- Yassen did what Yassen did best and ran. They had both made a pact not to kill again, to live the simple life but Alex hadn’t realised that meant never, ever communicate again. It was kind of Yassen to leave him completely unprepared, vulnerable and black listed in his own country and the states, to his own devices after only days prior confessing his love but Alex didn’t want to dwell on it.   
Alex was living the simple life.   
First he went to Cyprus, faked himself a lifeguard qualification and taught basic surf boarding at some resort. He made friends quick being young, attractive and military trained in how to lie and charm. It was about a month into his work when he was sat watching the flumes, legs dangling off the now too hot plastic seat, elevated by now overheating metal, a flip flop lazily dangling of his foot and his bright red white striped pool shorts casting a light glow on his own tanned face. The loose fitting yellow spandex LIFEGUARD shirt clinging to his sweat soaked stomach, that it happened. It was nothing exciting, the thing that happened, but to Alex it was somehow more exciting than any mission Mi6 had ever given him. He was boiling and the water was quiet, a few kids being thrown around by their fathers mostly when a colleague, a waiter from the outside restaurant came to a stop below him.   
“Got a drink for you, Ally” She smiled, accent thick and eyebrow arching. On her tray was the most expensive mocktail on their already overpriced menu.   
“For me?” He echoed, leaning forward on his hands. “Do I have to pay?”   
“Someone paid already” She said, smile now foxish. “You’ve got an admirer.”   
And then his heart was in his throat. Could it be, after all this time, all these months of radio silence? Yassen would be able to find him no problem and this was so perfectly Yassen-ish. Too worried about security to outright show himself to Alex. He felt his cheeks flush.   
The drink was amazing too, and the flavours exploded on his tongue like a kaleidoscope. The gold leaf swirling in it it’s ornate glass caught the sun, almost blinding him but my god, considering the staff meals were chicken and water, turkey and water and chicken again, this was a godsend.   
At the bottom of the wide rimmed martini glass, hidden by the layers of juice and little umbrella was a keycard.   
Admiration? More like proposition. Alex couldn’t help but look up, eyes darting across the pool, squinting against the sun. A man tilted his drink in return, holding his own keycard up between his middle and index finger as his wife put suncream on their wailing toddler. Alex flushed even deeper, could feel every single freckle burn into his skin. It was a bold move, Alex could say that but it didn’t stop the feeling, both the clawing resentment and mild disappointment; It wasn’t Yassen and there was a good chance it never would be Yassen. Alex cursed himself for ever getting his hopes up.   
The man wasn’t unattractive, Alex realised as he looked back over for curiosity's sake. Old, yes but not ugly. Fit but greying and in an open black shirt that was probably eating all the sun’s warm rays and cooking the man alive.   
And so, Alex went to his room that night. It was a suite and Alex didn’t ask questions. Not ‘where is your son’ or ‘where was your wife’. He wanted something just as much as the man who offered him champagne and flashed him an easy smile. They finished the bottle and then they fucked till 3am when Alex realised he’d have to open the pool at 6am and had stumbled, still drunk and slightly giggly back to his dorm and for the first time in a long time; He felt alive. 

The first time was a petty and desperate attempt to forget Yassen. 

The seventh time. Well, that was debatable. 

Alex, by the end of August, had categorically slept with more men than he had taught people to surf. Similarly, he had made more tips sleeping with men than he had from teaching surf. However, on the scale, he made less sleeping with men then he did killing them.   
Did he feel sleazy? a little, maybe. But he was now so use to the smell of Sauvage, the taste of champagne and the feel of five star sheets when you were shoved, bent in half into them, that he couldn’t really feel that ashamed.   
Besides, considering he spent the last year killing people for money, he decided his morality on the matter was questionable at best.   
It was obvious Yassen Gregorovich wasn’t going to know or care that little Alex Rider was basically a glorified rent boy. Would he be more angry at that then working for Mi6?   
The summer left Alex Rider with a vicious hangover and a cold sense of dread as to what to do next.   
But seasons were useful things and in the spirit of the simple life, Alex went straight for a job as a chalet host.   
His libido faded with the summer sun or was taken away by the six am stars, angry ski mom’s and gluten intolerant children who failed to mention that until Alex had made them fresh bread for breakfast. Or grouting the jacuzzi at 3am at the behest of the stag party.   
Shaun, the other host with him, looked at his now collapsing souffle.   
“You’re such a posh boy” He rolled his eyes. Shaun, second year at Oxford studying philosophy, was ironically one of the poshest boys Alex thinks he’s ever met. HIs english accent so strong it almost sounded like a foreign language but Alex thought it would be a good idea that he underplay himself wherever he went and so, everyone at St. Anton’s thought Alex was a pretty but lazy dirtbag who smooched from season job to season job doing extreme sports.   
“Mate, your bag is so small” Was what Shaun had said when they met in their tiny two bed dorm.   
Alex had bullshitted a talk on minimalist living and his disgred for property and capitalist lifestyle. Shaun seemed to buy it. Shaun wasn’t a bad guy but months of him were started to grate at Alex’s patience.   
He hated sharing a room with him but the days were so long that Alex had to go to bed sometimes and when he jolted awake with tears in his eyes and a scream in his throat. Shaun would mutter “Get off your phone” and turn the other way. He snowboarded in his spare time, drank more than probably necessary to stop the nightmares and spent Christmas day making a seven course meal with Shaun breathing down his neck.   
Sometimes, when things got stressful - stressful to shaun, mildly stressful to Alex but not quite as stressful as the average day when he was fourteen- Shaun would get so stressy, Alex would want to shout; You know I used to kill people for a living and before that worked for the secret service?   
But he wasn’t dumb and so he didn’t. Though even if he did, Shaun wouldn’t believe him.   
It was a Sunday, three months in and a new party of businessmen with their families was coming to their lodge. Shaun was frantically changing sheets as Alex scrubbed the kitchen.   
“I told you not to go out last night. Jeremy told me you did the black slope on a ironing board drunk last night?”   
Alex snorted and dunked the mop back into the bucket. Somehow it had been harder to do under non-life threatening situations and he couldn’t quite remember how he’d tied his shoes down but the whole staff from concierge to drivers had been chanting ‘do it’ and Alex hated to disappoint.   
“Yeah I did. Blindfolded the second time. Black slopes here aren’t too bad”   
“You did a keg stand before” Shaun sounded a mixture of appalled and impressed.   
“I have great balance.” Alex shrugged. “I’ll be honest, Shaun. Last night is a bit of a blur”   
They were making canapes for their arrival when Shaun decided to say;   
“But you know, Alex. I just feel like I’m pulling the weight here. Like, I know this is your first year doing this but you need to spend less time drinking and more time getting involved. Life isn’t a walk in the park. I mean, I got into Oxford, I know what hard work is and you should learn what it is too”   
Alex swallowed, hands stalling on the tyme he was gently laying over salmon sliver.   
“I know what hard work is, Shaun” He’d laughed, brushed it off with impeccable acting skill and tried to not feel the pull back to a life he promised to leave behind. 

But fate had never been kind to Alex Rider and the life he left would always find him first. 

“Did you get chicken out the oven?” Shaun hissed in his ear as the three business men sat around their mahogany table, already two bottles of wine down by the second course.   
“Uh-” He paused on the carrots he was chopping as Shaun stared.   
“Alex!” He whined, hands clutching like he was going to strike. The tiniest part of Alex tensing in anticipation. Muscle memory more than anything else.   
Obviously the chicken was fine because Alex was one carrot away from taking it out himself but Shaun was looking at him like he just threatened nuclear war.   
“Go re-fill their wine” Shaun thrust the bottle into his hand and Alex couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he uncorked another merlot.   
There was a little breakfast bar that separates the kitchen from the vast dining space with it’s deer heads on the wall and roaring fire. The flames played of Alex’s work embroidered polo shirt and made his nylon slacks itch against his thigh. It usually worked this way between them, their manager had said Alex made a better face between the two of them, had a brighter smile and a better disposition and so Shaun prepped meals and Alex served them. His cheeks hurt smiling today though. He’d burnt the bridge of his nose and cheeks on the slopes yesterday and it was agony.   
“Red?” He asked.   
“If it’s the money you’re worried about, you shouldn’t be. It’s safe-”   
“Anyone else?” He tried again. He was use to being ignored by these types.   
“It’s the boy-”   
He went back to the kitchen and returned the bottle, taking a cutting board Shaun had discarded and beginning to wash it. Shaun was humming something softly beside him as he sauteed some mushrooms and just over the tap and the hiss of the stove Alex heard;   
“Gregorovich isn’t the problem”   
He turned the tap off with a flick of his wrist, ears alert and mind didatched.   
“Well after Alessandro's death and that incident in Burma-”   
“Alex can you get the potatoes?”   
He moved on auto pilot, all attention on the conversation.   
“We’ve put a hit out on them both but the boy is proving difficult to locate”   
His heart stopped. A hit? on him?   
“I spoke to British authorities, they’ll assist in the boys capture if we keep their secret” The man speaking had a slight accent, as though he came from the area. The other was distinctly American and the third eastern. Alex had to get their names. “He told Alessandro everything about his past. Seemed to really trust the rat.”  
“Gregorovich has been active recently. My men have tracked him to Bosnia”   
Alex took the wine again, ignoring Shaun’s stage whisper of “Help with the sauce!”   
“What’s he doing there?”   
The Swiss chuckled. “Following a job I gave to him. He’ll be caught off guard. He trusts me”   
Alex lent over, trying to keep his racing thoughts at bay. He had to find out more.   
“Red?”   
His hand was shaking as it poured. They were going to kill Yassen, they were going to kill Yassen and he was here, unable to do a thing about it. The Swiss, who’s name Alex didn’t know, said Yassen trusted him? But worse than that, Alex realised Yassen was still active. Yassen had lied, made Alex go and live this boring, simple life while he continued. A part of him wondered, prayed it was some misguided attempt to save Alex but Alex was far from saved. He was viciously miserable. He’d been trained to kill, to investigate, to survive, since birth and Yassen thought he could switch it off overnight?   
“And what about the boy?”   
“He was close with Yassen. Alessandro's guards said so. Once he finds out about his death he’ll pop up somewhere”   
Alex hated hearing Alessandro's name. The man who had used him, exploited his lack of knowledge about the seedy underworld Mi6 had bathed him in but never enlightened him on had made him a ruthless killer in under 6 months.  
“And besides, Mi6 told us he’s desperate for justice. He has no one.”   
The three chuckled. Alex just fetched the chicken. He’d been used to being mocked.   
“He’s blonde. Beautiful... or so Alessandro said”   
“Yes, Alessandro spoke all the time what a catch the boy was”   
Alex bristled. Now that, he didn’t enjoy being talked about like that.   
“And will they catch him?” The American asked.   
“Mi6, a bounty on his head and interpol lending their hand?” The swiss murmured “There is no where he can hide”   
Alex closed his eyes against the rising nausea.   
“Take the chicken”   
Alex’s eyes flashed open. Shaun, skinny and gaunt, arms folded over his apron, stared.   
“Come on”   
“You take it” Alex murmured.   
“No way” Shan snapped. “I’m doing everything. I literally do all the work here and you just go and get drunk!”   
“Please, Shaun” He hated how his voice almost broke.   
“Do you know what he looks like?”   
“Blonde, brown eyes, well built and handsome, nineteen but he’d need to take a job that kept him low profile-”  
“Fuckssake, Alex” Shaun snapped, louder than he meant too and the room fell silent. Shaun flushed with embarrassment, eyes widened as he realised he may have ruined service. Probably nervous it was brought up with his manager.   
Alex closed his eyes and then shot Shaun a look that made the boy pale. The men had stopped talking, no one had made a move and the gentle crackle of the fireplace was all that could be heard. Maybe they didn’t suspect anything. Maybe they just realised there were other people in the room. Maybe it was just the mention of the same name.   
What an earth did these men do that they new Yassen? Their details, as brief as they were, had all said that these were men high ranking ceos of very legitimate companies. Clearly not as legitimate as anyone thought.   
“We’ll go together” Shaun muttered, swiping up a plate with a ferocity that made Alex want to slap him. Alex took the other two, balancing them on his arm as he carried the wine bottle in the other. It would look more suspicious if he didn’t go now.   
“Here’s some roast chicken with balsamic bell peppers. The salad is fresh” Shaun was saying, putting the plate down. Alex leaned over the American, placing the dish down.   
“The chicken is actually honey-roasted-”   
Pressure, insistent and deadly, nosed into Alex’s side.   
“Good try, Rider”   
Alex swallowed, hand still on the plate. Shaun was looking mildly perplexed, eyes darting between the men and Alex, caterers smile still in place. Mind processing exactly what was going on.   
“Ballsy move, waltzing into the lion’s den like that” The American growled.   
“I swear I didn’t know. Let’s call it thunderball chances. Let the boy go he didn’t do anything-” He motioned at Shaun.  
“Shut it. Guess we just saved ourselves a whole lotta money, aye Altermatt?” He addressed the Swiss across from him. Altermatt. Alex kept the name in mind. “What’s this? Poisoned probably” He poked the chicken with his other hand. The third man just looked on, gaze unreadable.   
Altermatt smiled. “You’re just as pretty as rumoured”   
Alex blanched. Jaw clenched tight and side beginning to ache from the press of the gun.   
“Oh yes” Altermatt said. “News of your talents in Cyprus travelled oh so fast. A shame you left before we found you. Men like that love sex but they like money more and they were more than willing when given an opportunity to be able to do both-”   
The next few seconds happened too fast for Shaun to understand. Alex’s face twisted, first from confusion to a embarrassment and then to rage. His foot flew up, impacted the mahogany table with all of his lower body strength and in doing so knocked him back. The table flipped, sending hot food and wine all over Altermatt. The American’s gun fired but Alex’s hands were already at the muzzle as he hauled it away from himself as the two of them fell. The force of the chair hitting the ground loosened the American’s grip and the gun fell into Alex’s hands. He fired, a shot that went straight into the man grabbing at hims skull. He heard Shaun scream, heard another shot go off. The third man was up and hiding behind the breakfast bunker. Alex crouched by the table. A shot went off, hitting a light. Another a little closer to Alex before Alex made a run for it, Jumping the bunker firing a round into the man’s chest. The clip fell empty and smoking at his feet. He began to re-load and Altermatt laughed.   
“Very good, Alex Rider” He struggled to his feet. “Very, very good. So perfectly trained. You really are a pedigree-”   
Alex didn’t wait to hear the rest.   
The room, again, was silent. Silent until Shaun began to sob.   
“Al-Alex...Alex what’s...what’s happening-”   
“Their men will be here soon” Alex said, gathering a new clip and a steak knife from the ground as he ran through to one of their bedrooms, gathering the first clothes he found and bringing through Altermatt’s phone. “You don’t tell them you saw me leave. You don’t tell them anything.” Alex dialled for the police. “Tell them there has been an accident. No, a robbery” He held out the phone. “If you don’t those guards will kill you too”   
Shaun’s face was sheet white, his hands trembling.   
“Shaun promise me. Promise me you won’t mention me. It’ll be okay”   
“I-I won’t Alex” He mumbled. “I won’t” 

When police arrive on scene they find a dead chalet host, two dead business men and one very alive Swiss ready by three am to give a police statement. 

“A tragedy on the slopes as a crime scene is discovered on St. Anton. The stunning resort was home last night to a brutal robbery which ended with three dead and one injured. Amongst the dead was Oxford undergraduate Shaun Daniels. British authorities have sent a team to assist the investigation into how such a tragedy could-”   
Alex looked away from the phone screen beside him. He was currently on a train, crossing into Italy and looking over the passenger beside him he saw the article. At least he wasn’t. Alermatt had lived and he would be telling Mi6 about Alex the second he had a chance. He didn’t feel frightened. A little underprepared maybe, but not scared. It would be okay. He could work this out.   
And my god it beat getting shouted at for bad honey roasted chicken.   
He’d been shaken when he heard about Shaun. Felt whole heartedly responsible when he knew he shouldn’t. But really he should have seen it coming. There was no running from his past.   
His clothing was a disaster. A badly fitting black polo neck with a bomber jacket in an awful old man beige as well as trousers that were double his size, held in by a bit of rope he found in his hasty escape from the slopes. He prayed to any onlooker that he just looked like he was trying to be trendy.   
He was still chilled to the bone from his late night run through knee deep snow but he was dealing with it. He was beginning to drift off when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out and looked at the message.   
“You’re getting sloppy, Little Alex.”   
He couldn’t help but grin. 

Mostar’s old town was a labyrinth of twisting routes and back alleyways and as Alex weaved his way through the streets. Passed bustling shoppers in a desperate attempt to find Yassen gregorovich, he was beginning to lose hope.   
He stood on Mostar’s bridge. In the summer tourists would pay men to jump the 22 metres down into the freezing, shallow river bellow. Snow began to fall, small flakes swirling through the air and Alex suddenly realised how stupid he felt, travelling all the way on a text that could have been easily faked. The streets were a little less busy, lights lit them and people bustled and chatted in restaurants. Wherever Yassen was, he wasn’t making this easy. But why on earth would he. Yassen didn’t know that Alex knew where he was. He may have left Bosnia already. He could be anywhere by now. He began to walk back through the old town, feet kicking at the snow in petulance. He had no money, no leads and no hope. He was so concentrated he didn’t notice the man who’s shoulder he bumped.   
“Sorry” he mumbled.   
“Excuse me” Pain erupted in his side. “Altermatt sends his best.”   
Fuck.   
His hands fumbled into the back of his jacket, coming back soaking dark red. A stab wound, direct to the back. He stumbled a little to the right, caught by another man and then he felt it again, this time in his front. He cradled his rib, vision swimming for a moment before his instincts kicked in. He threw his backback round, catching the assailant in the face. The knife clattered to the cobbles below. He could feel the other man run for him but he threw the bag and bolted. Skidding down side streets and dodging down alleys. He heard them shout something about back up down the phone and new he was in trouble. He could hear the stamp of feet. Five, six maybe, different pairs, coming from different directions down the almost empty streets. Altermatt was going to make sure he didn’t come out of this alive.  
He pushed out on a main street, only just missing the bullet that barrelled towards him and as he turned on his tail another man rounded the corner. He glanced around, eyes wide and frantic and threw himself into a restaurant, pushing past the server and through to the toilets. He could hear shouting, hear people following. The toilet had a window, barely big enough for him to crawl through but he’d have to make do.   
He could hear them pounding down the door. A fist came through, Alex watched as it felt for the lock. Heart in his throat he pushed his head and arms out, grabbed the drain pipe above him and began to pull. His legs thrashed as his elbows hit the slates. He dragged harder, harder still. Could feel wetness spreading across his waist, dripping down into waistband. He was bleeding out from the exertion. A dizzy lightheadedness began to creep through him. His ears began to ring.   
A hand on his calf made him scream and he thrashed and kicked violently, his right foot making contact with something that felt like a nose. The shock rippled through him like a taser and then agony as something was hauled across his ankle.   
They’d slashed his Achilles tendon and they were going for the other one. He’d be completely unable to walk. He scrambled harder, nails bleeding against the slates as his mind blanked from the pain and adrenaline. Focus, focus, focus. His shoe was lost in the process, his chin bashed but finally he got his feet out. The force pulled him down, made him hang by his fingertips on the frozen, cracking slates. Muscles screaming he hauled himself fully up. Sweat plastered his skin to his forehead but he kept going, crawling hands and knees, Ankle too sore to walk on he dragged himself along the rooftops.   
“Where’d he go” He could hear the men below shouting, running through the streets and trying to find ways up onto the roofs. Alex lay low, crawling as silently as he could, breath held.   
The pain was unimaginable but there was a creeping cold euphoria, his bodies last attempt to stay alive against all odds. He was dying and he was dying fast.   
He could get across the bridge onto the other side into the new town. He’d be safer.   
He got closer, crawling at a snail's pace as they ran the same streets at double the speed underneath him. He watched them climb up to check areas but never daring to come onto the tiles, too scared they wouldn’t take their weight. The dark made it hard to make anything out.   
He’d alert them when he dropped down, though. He dragged himself to the edge, seeing the opening to the bridge, steep and daunting up ahead. Dirt and frost clung to him and the cold bit at the bare, bleeding wound at his feet.   
It was a six metre drop, give or take. He would be fine. It would be fine. But it didn’t feel fine. The ground came hard and fast as he lowered himself and his ankle gave out like he was a baby calf. He couldn’t help but scream. The wound gaped, slashed and ugly, deep enough that it moved awkwardly as alex pulled his foot up to his chest to ease the pain. Tears spilled over unwilling.   
“Here! I heard him!”   
He got up. He had to get up! clutched the sides of the walls and then the metal of the bridges railing, pulling himself up and up. Not much longer, just to the other side.   
“Bridge! He’s on the bridge!”   
He made it to the middle shaking and trembling and sick to his stomach from the pain. He was sweating so hard he had to shake his head to get the droplets off his eyelashes. Just a little further.   
“Got him!”   
But to his horror that voice came from the other side of the bridge. They’d anticipated him. They saw this coming and now the had him cornered. His ankle slid against the cobbles, unwilling to keep his weight up and he howled in agony. This was it.   
Or was it.   
In the summer men would jump from the bridge. He could do it.   
But they were trained and it was summer and even then the water was cold enough to stop their hearts.   
But what choice did he have?   
He’d have to do it. He’d have to jump.   
He gingerly stepped and over the barrier, good foot first and pulled the other over carefully. A bullet grazed his hair and he stumbled, swinging round to clutch onto the iron railing, cheek pressed against it as he felt tears trail off his chin.   
“It’s okay, it’s okay”   
A bullet hit the bridge beside him, leaving a smoking hole. they had silencers on and the only sound was the soft whirl as the air parted. He was a sitting duck.   
“Almost got it” He could hear them shout down the phone. They were closing in.  
Below the river was inky black and the space between seemed like a moving object. He balanced on his toes, no room for any less. His slashed ankle screaming against the miniscule weight he was putting on it. It slipped against the cobble.   
“What are you doing, Rider?” He could hear the men laugh. “You’ll die on impact”   
“Leave him” Another said quietly.   
Their guns were trained on him now. He’d be shot if he went back. His knees trembled, beginning to give. THe cold air blustered his hair across his vision. He whimpered, unable not to, fear and blood loss getting to his head.   
“Make it quick” One said and there was disgust and pity in his voice. “He’s just a boy”   
Alex heard the release of the safety and with all the energy he had left, with all the will power to just survive he jumped. In the space between the fall and the impact all he felt was blinding fear.  
The sound of the wind defeated him as he fell, gathering speed as he tried to close his legs against the force. He could feel the knife wounds in him flutter against the pull but the pain of them was drowned by his racing heart, his terrified mind.   
He hit the black water like it was concrete. The force slamming against him, driving the air out his lungs as he went under. The cold water pressed into the cuts all over him, spread through his veins and up to his heart till it felt like he was made of ice. His limbs were unresponsive and his clothes weighed him down and as panic set in, as asphyxia clawed at his throat, he could do nothing but give into the blackness. 

Besides, comparative to the rest of his life, how bad could death really be? 

He felt as though he was swaying even though he was lying down and somewhere he seemed to be aware of gulls. He couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, even if questions were racing through his head. How on earth had he gotten here? how on earth did he get out tht river. He’d died. He remembered dying. He tried to move but he felt like a floating head. Time to go smaller. He tried to quirk a finger, focusing all his attention on it. Under his index finger that moved like a zombies, he began to feel cotton sheets. From there his hand came back to him and then his arm bit by bit. He was alive, that much was certain. How he’d survived, where he was, it was all secondary.  
There was a ceiling fan above him, chuntering softly and golden light was filtering in from behind slats on the window. He was on a sofa in a off green colour and the room was a little dusty. There was a whistling noise above him that he couldn’t quite place, getting louder and louder.   
His vision swum, exhaustion pulling at him and his raised hand fell back against his stomach.   
When he woke next the light was the same but the whistling had stopped. He heard a creak and tried to turn his head but found that he couldn’t. It came from above him.   
Had he been captured? Brought by the enemy to Altermatt?   
Why would they bother fishing him out the river. He struggled to sit up and bit his lip to stop from screaming as it disturbed his stitches. Someone had stitched him up. He put a hand against the bandages around his middle. It was a job well done, even if it had clearly been done in a hurry and Alex knew he could trust them to hold.   
He’d been drugged, that much was clear from how unresponsive his body was. Pain meds probably. He doubted it was anything insidious. For now.   
He had to get off this boat. Slowly his foot made contact with the hard ground, bare toes rubbing along the planks as he pushed himself up. His other foot came down but gave out instantly and he crashed to the ground with a loud thud, knocking over the coffee table opposite in doing so. A tin cup and a plate clattering in the process.   
He winced, lying still to listen for any sound above deck but there was nothing. He was okay for now.   
His foot was a problem. A very, very sore problem but he could make it work. He’d survived Mostar, he wasn’t dying here.   
He crawled, legs still a little drowsy and unresponsive to the bunker unit and hauled himself up. The gulls cried happily unaware around him and the gentle sway of the boat did nothing to help his balance.   
He moved round to the stairs, picking up a bread knife, freshly used as a makeshift weapon. He crawled up and up. His body was not happy about being disturbed from it’s healing process and his stitches twinged in the process as he stretched to open the door. Cold air blasted him but he ignored it, squinting against the sun he crept along the deck.   
“Oh you’re up”   
His heart leapt into his throat at the sound behind him and he spun round, eyes wide.  
Yassen Gregorovich stood, a mildly amused look on his face. A cup of something steaming in his hand.   
“When...” Alex tried, voice breathless. “What-”   
And then Yassen doubled, tripled and the whole world went black. 

A crippling sense of deja vu overcame him as he opened his eyes. Gulls cried and the kettle whistled but this time when he cracked open his eyes, Yassen was sat in the arm chair opposite him.   
“We really need to stop meeting like this” Alex tried, though it came out more like a gurgled groan. Yassen had clearly given him something stronger. His eyes felt pleasantly heavy when he looked over. Yassen was in warm fisherman’s jumper, cable knit and rolled to his elbows, showing off the forearms of a climber he had. He glanced up.   
“What was that?” He smiled.   
Smiled. He had the audacity to smile after everything he put Alex through again.   
“You disappeared” Alex slurred. “After Burma...You said-”   
“I know what I said” Yassen sounded more solemn “And I meant to retire. There was some business I had to sort”   
Alex snorted.   
“Debts to pay” Yassen said. “For both our sakes”   
“Altermatt tricked you. He was only hiring you to gain his trust” Alex’s speech began to return.   
“I know that” Yassen said but his tone was odd. He was keeping something from Alex. “How did you know to go to St. Anton?”   
Alex sighed, hand resting on his stomach to idly play with his bandages.   
“Would you believe me if I said it was a happy coincidence?”   
Yassen chuckled “With your luck yes”   
Silence fell over them as Alex’s smile dropped. Their gentle camaraderie only brought back memories of confusion and fear, months of silence and jobs Alex regretted.   
“Why didn’t you call. Anything. Any sign.” Alex didn’t mean to sound so broken, so pathetic.   
Yassen just stood. “Do you want some coffee?”   
Alex wanted to scream in frustration but he couldn’t. He was too pleased to finally see the man again that acting childish, pushing him away, was the last thing he dared to do.   
Maybe that was bad but he didn’t care. The events of the last week were catching up to him and all he felt now was bone deep relief.   
Yassen helped him sit up and draped a moth bitten blanket around him to stop his shuddering.   
“How did you find me?”   
“I killed the team that came after me. They were sloppy. They thought I didn’t suspect Altermatt but after what happened in the Alps...Well, I knew it couldn’t have been anyone but you and I know you are an idiot and that Altermatt is smart. So I knew he’d let you find me, even if just to make our deaths faster”   
Alex flushed. “I’m not an idiot...”   
“You’re a lucky, resourceful idiot” Yassen said, firmer this time. “They really did a number on you though. Altermatt wasn’t taking his chances”   
Yassen’s hand trailed across his back with a clinical care, even if it send shockwaves of pleasure through Alex.   
“They missed anything important and with the angle you threw yourself you only just missed the rocks”   
Alex closed his eyes, sighing against the weird extentensial feeling that coiled in his gut as he considered his own mortality.   
“I pulled you out the water” Yassen said and his voice sounded oddly haunted. “You weren’t breathing and you’d lost a lot of blood. Brought you back here and stitched you up as best I could but you’re not well”   
“How long have I-”   
“About four days”   
“Four days?!” Alex blinked. “Oh my god...”   
“You were feverish for the first two. I think it was the chill and your foot almost got infected” Yassen looked away and Alex had to stare at the line of the man's neck. “I thought I was going to lose you. Your father would have never forgiven me” he added, almost to himself.   
“You’re dead” He said suddenly, clearing his throat. “To the world, that is. Newspapers even reported it. There is an uproar in England over you. No pictures have been released but someone told the press about your family, about the spying. Mi6 haven’t responded.”   
“What?” Alex’s stomach dropped. “Who would do that?”   
“Altermatt probably. He has them blackmailed now.” Yassen glanced over. “Because Altermatt is probably the only man in the world who has pictures of your face. That’s how-” Yassen stopped himself and handed Alex the overdue coffee. He looked awkward, a face that didn’t suit him.   
“Just tell me” Alex pleaded, unable to help sounding desperate. “I think I deserve to know”   
Yassen’s eyes flashed briefly with something that made Alex’s stomach turn; genuine anger.   
“You do, do you?” Yassen stood and headed towards the little bunker to wash out his own cup. “That’s how he blackmailed me. Do you really think I couldn’t tell when someone was using me?” Yassen snapped. Alex swallowed, unused to this side of Yassen. “He threatened to release the pictures to the press, complete with the whole teen spy story and so I came out of retirement to stop him, even if it was just by killing off his employees. I knew he was tailing me and I knew he’d try to kill me but I didn’t want your face over every news channel across the globe.”  
“So you...” Alex tried. “You did retire?”   
Yassen shot him a glance and it was then that Alex realised how little he knew about the man. How blindly he trusted him under the assumption that everything he was doing was for his sake. It was never that simple, he’d learnt that about everyone else over the years but Yassen, Yassen still made it seem as though Alex could rely on him when he was the person who let him down the most.   
“I retired” Yassen said gently. “and I prayed you did to. I just didn’t think you’d be so stupid”   
Alex sat up. “Stupid?”   
And then Yassen threw him a folder from the counter.   
It was full of black and white lense shots. Black and white lense shots of him. Him in bed with men twice his age. Blissed out and shirtless, head thrown back or drinking champagne and smiling.   
“Yassen...” He suddenly felt the need to explain himself. Explain himself considering the last time they saw eachother they’d been proclaiming love and fucking but he couldn’t find it in himself to ashamed or to apologise. Yassen had left him. Yassen had thrown him a lifeline and then taken it away.   
“Spare me it, Rider” Yassen said.   
It hurt. It really hurt and Alex suddenly felt a cold numbness crawl all over him.   
“Yeah” He muttered. “Okay”   
“You know just stopping being a spy doesn’t mean you stop doing everything you knew to do before-” Yassen started.   
“Well It would have been nice if you’d told me that before!” Alex shouted and winced as it pulled his stitches.   
“Alex Rider” Yassen said coldly. “You’ve been a spy for over half a decade. I think you should know when something Is a bad idea and now” Yassen threw his mug down into the sink with a clatter “We’re both going to die because you couldn’t keep your pants up and just think for once”   
Alex shuddered at the thought, thinking of the blinding fear of all his other near death experiences. But going up against the world’s assassin community, with bounties on their heads that was beginning to exceed past billionaire's dreams and Mi6 probably hot on their heels, made it seem viscerally terrifying but even then, all he could think about was Yassen.  
“What do you even want from me?” He snapped and suddenly he felt hysterical. “Is this just a game to you? Picking me up when I’m at my lowest only to drop me again? How many times have we been here, Yassen”  
“Do not lecture me” Yassen warned, pinning Alex with a cold stare. “And don’t you dare blame me for this”  
It was like setting of a grenade.   
“I do blame you and I will lecture you. You’re shit at your job” Alex snarled. “And I’ve done it and you know what, Yassen? it’s easy. Killing people is easy.” Alex laughed. “It’s a hundred times easier than spying, that’s one thing for sure and so I do blame you. If you hadn’t left me in Burma we wouldn’t be here. If you hadn’t fucked me Korea, I wouldn’t be here. If you’d not attacked me in Laos, we wouldn’t be here. If you hadn’t faked your death, we wouldn’t be here and If you’d just done your fucking job on the roof all those years ago, we wouldn’t be here and if you think for one moment you’ve spared me any pain by not killing me that day you’re wrong. I wish you’d killed me” Alex’s voice had risen till he was practically screaming and Yassen’s face had schooled itself to unreadable but Alex could tell he was getting somewhere. He was hysterical now,shaking like he was going to pass out. His throat aching. “Instead, you took my uncle, my life, took my love and then my fucking virginity and you left me to deal with it by my fucking self” He shrieked “So yes, I blame you. I blame you for fucking everything. Do you know what the guilt is like? Knowing every day that i’ve fallen in love with my uncle’s fucking murderer? How dumb I feel thinking back to how I thought about killing you?” Alex’s eyes, puffed red and watery, narrowed and his voice came out a harsh sneer. “Or maybe you do. Maybe you do feel guilty, Gregorovich. I wonder how my dad would react, Huh? knowing you fucked me till I couldn’t walk-”   
Yassen back handed him and stood, staring down at Alex for a moment and the worst part, the absolute worst part, was that Alex could see the shine of unshed tears in Yassen’s eyes. 

Alex wanted to scream but he couldn’t. His cheek still hurt, somehow hurt more than all the other wounds he was recovering from and still Yassen hadn’t come down from the top deck. The light had faded in the small cabin and the lights flickered awkwardly.   
It was an inconspicuous little fishing boat. Yassen had picked well, no one would consider this a place for two highly paid international assassin's to live.   
Yassen would inevitably tell him he’d have to leave. Once his injuries had healed, once he could walk again, he’d be told to leave because it was dangerous the two of them being together. It made catching them a hell of a lot easier.   
That’s if Yassen even cared about him being alive anymore after the little show Alex had thrown earlier he had no idea what Yassen thought. His cheek twitched in response.   
None of it made sense. Yassen had gone around taking out this groups small fry, losing them money in the process. Alessandro had been one of those small fry, Alex had been one of his employees. Alessandro had told Altermatt about his past, about his spying and then Alex had disappeared. Altermatt tracked him to the resort, took those pictures and blackmailed Yassen. Then they’d ‘killed’ him and now Altermatt was extorting the British secret service. Yassen would be killed to tie up loose ends and Altermatt would come out of it much richer than he left.   
It was always, always about money and maybe that was why it didn’t make sense.  
It was night when Yassen re-appeared and it was only then that Alex saw just how different he looked. He was still covered in sleek, panther like muscle, still handsome, still had shockingly blue eyes but there was stubble on his chin where there wasn’t before, a scar on his lip that hadn’t been there and a tiredness in his eyes that made Alex feel uncomfortable. It was as though he’d given up.   
“Are you hungry?” Yassen said, voice impassive.   
Alex shook his head even as his stomach growled. It was half out of a childish need to make sure Yassen didn’t try to look after him anymore and half the sicky feeling all this uncertainty was causing.  
Yassen just shrugged softly.   
“I got you some clothes” He dropped a sweater and some striped sweatpants by Alex. “Call if you need anything”   
And with that Alex was left alone again.   
He’d never felt like this before, never quite so hopeless. It came with age, he’d decided. At fourteen it had seemed exciting, it had felt so other wordly. Now, this just was his world and he was jaded. Jaded and lonely. He thought of Yassen, blonde hair cut short and eyes hardened, muscles tense even when there was no danger. They even looked similar. Now, he’d broken the trust and the friendship with the only person left in the world who still loved him. His own country thought he was dead and was bargaining over his legacy with a megalomaniac who’d taken his fucking nudes. A megalomaniac who was going to hunt Yassen relentlessly and then he’d be gone. Gone because he got involved for Alex’s sake. To bait him out of hiding and Alex had fallen for it.   
And now here they were, hopeless and adrift in the middle of the ocean.   
He pulled on the sweater, careful not to aggravate his wounds and then the sweat pants. The ground was unsteady and his foot ached but slowly he made it up the stairs. The deck was almost black, save a few lights dotted along the bow and hung prettily above the mast. He doubted Yassen had put them there.   
The shadow of said man was hard to find but the steam from his tea gave him away. He was stood by the starboard. Elbows resting on the worn wood. The wind would ruffle his hair if he had enough hair to ruffle. IT would be romantic under any other circumstances and yet Alex’s heart still ached. It ached for the type of intimacy Yassen once offered. The type of intimacy he felt when Yassen told him he loved him all those years back on that god forbidden plane.   
He moved closer till they were standing shoulder to shoulder but he didn’t dare look over at Yassen. He felt the man’s gaze on him though. He heard a sigh, long and laboured and then an arm dropped around his shoulders, strong and stable. The water rushed below them, black as the sky above them and the cold still nipped his nose but Alex felt a rush of relief unlike anything he’d felt in a while. Yassen could do that. Yassen; his only tie to the past, the warmth of a childhood he lost. Yassen who always knew when to appear. His knight in shining armour but Alex always had a tendency to push his luck and it was never going to be death, or danger that pushed him and Yassen apart. It was always going to be Alex.   
“Will this be okay?” He asked softly. Yassen chuckled, the first warm, Yassen-like thing to happen since he awoke.   
“You’re dead, little Alex” Yassen dropped his nose into the top of his hair, almost a kiss but more sentimental. As though Yassen was giving himself the luxury of comfort. “What does it matter to you?”   
“You’d know what that was like” Alex tilted his head up and their eyes caught. Yassen shifted like some kind of wild animal and Alex felt himself shrink back softly, desperate for whatever he’d ignited in Yassen.   
But Yassen stepped back, eyes softening and flashing Alex a smile murmured;   
“It will be fine”   
“No” Alex said. “You’re lying to me. Stop it”   
Yassen turned on him.   
“You’re really pushing your fucking luck tonight, aren’t you?”   
Alex flinched and slumped against the railing, head bowed and soft curls caught by the wind. He’d never heard Yassen swear before and it was oddly terrifying. It raised the stakes. Yassen sighed and pinched his nose.   
“No, it’s not going to be alright. If you stay here, when Altermatt finds me he’ll also find you and then you’ll either be killed or bargained back to Mi6”   
Alex swallowed. He had to man up. After shouting at Yassen earlier, venting and getting nothing in response Alex realised he had to stop relying on people. He had to do this alone.   
“Then I’ll leave. Drop me of at the next port town-”   
“And you’ll what? You’re a child” Yassen sighed. A long pause followed. “And you were right. This is my fault.”   
Alex didn’t know what to say but he swallowed and looked back.   
“The last time I was honest with you I thought I was going to die...” Yassen murmured. “And now we’re here again. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to protect you and I’ve failed. I’ve failed because you and I-” Yassen stopped himself. “Because I felt something and I let it get in the way of doing my job...And I couldn’t let you go. So I don’t want you to leave but I also know it’s right. Love for you has gotten us nowhere good. We are each others only weakness and Altermatt knows it. Knows it for certain after I took that case to protect you and after you came to Bosnia to find me. He will exploit it and if your country found out they’d exploit it too”   
Alex’s whole body buzzed with the honesty of it. His whole body, still weak from injury but pushing through, suddenly needed everything Yassen could possible offer, even if it killed him, even if he knows Yassen will fuck him over.   
“Why do I still want you then?” Alex muttered. “Why won’t this go away”  
This could only end in tragedy.   
“I can take the couch” Yassen cleared his throat. Hand rubbing over his stubble and hair. Ignoring Alex completely.   
“I’ve bled all over it” Alex muttered. “And besides, it’s your boat, your bed”   
“You know the last time we were on a boat together-” Yassen began, a flicker of humour in his eyes but Alex couldn’t think back to then. When things were tougher but somehow easier, when he didn’t need to fake his own passport but the time when Mi6 had first, truly let him down.   
“It was a nicer boat” Alex finished, rubbing his arms against the sea breeze even under the heavy woolen jumper. Yassen laughed and ruffled Alex’s hair with a familiarity that made Alex tear up a little.   
Yassen moved below deck with Alex limping behind him. He didn’t need help and he wouldn’t let Yassen give it to him. He did grab the North Face jacket that hung beside a picture of a big, ugly fish when he put too much weight on his foot. The jacket felt familiar and strangely Alex remembered Ian having one exactly the same.   
“Your ankle is bad” Yassen informed him, cutting through his thoughts. “It could be a while before that feels good to stand on. They were really making sure you weren’t going anywhere”   
“I would have died if you hadn’t found me” Alex murmured. Yassen stared at him for a moment, as though considering whether to lie or not.   
“You were dead when I found you” He settled on. “Your lips were blue and your heart had stopped. I’ve no idea how long you were under that water and you’d lost a lot of blood. The fact you even managed to pull through is-” Yassen swallowed and then looked over. “It scared me. I never expected you to live long, not after I heard about your Father, not after I saw the work you were doing but I never expected-” Yassen laughed suddenly. “The one thing I tried to avoid was letting you die in front of me”   
Alex couldn’t help the bitter chuckle that erupted from his throat “Yes, from experience I can say it isn’t fun”   
Yassen came over, taking his time as though Alex was a wild animal. Under the deck was a warm competitively. The dim light made it feel claustrophobically small but Alex couldn’t bring himself to care. Through a narrow little walkway was the bedroom, bunk like and barely made for two.   
“Not quite a five star hotel?” Yassen quirked an eyebrow. Close enough now that Alex could feel his breath.   
“Don’t worry, I’ve slept in worse” Alex returned. He didn’t want to be desperate, didn’t want to push or seem young. Not after he’d screamed at Yassen earlier- or maybe because he’d screamed at him? His emotions were all up in the air after almost dying even if he should be used to it by now.  
“You should lie down” Yassen’s voice had dropped, more a whisper and than anything else now. “For your injuries” he added. Because god forbid they ever be open about their desire, Alex thought.   
But Yassen was right, as he always was, and his stitches were beginning to really hurt.   
“Alright” He aquised gently and lay himself in the soft bunk, suddenly feeling exhaustion creep up on him. “Stay” He added to Yassen.   
“I can’t go anywhere” Yassen smiled, hand sliding into Alex’s hair.   
“I wouldn’t put it past you” Alex muttered, shifting under the sheets, pulling them to his chin to avoid the chill. Yassen sat on the bed.   
“What do you want, Alex?”   
He’d asked before, he’d asked every time. Yassen always asked. His odd sense of duty and care for a man in his field always made Alex feel a little breathless.   
“What do you want, Yassen?” He sat up on his elbows, letting the oversized knitted sweater slide of his shoulder. His perfect timing, impeccable luck. He watched Yassen’s eyes dilate. “I’m not the same boy you took in Korea” He added, feeling brave.   
Yassen moved like lightning and Alex barely had time to think before Yassen had flipped him in a way that somehow didn’t aggravate his wounds, onto his front, pinning his arm up by his shoulder.   
A kiss was dropped onto the top of his spine and Alex found his fear die.   
“I think you’ll always be the same boy, Little Alex” Yassen’s grip loosened and the same hand trailed under his jumper, over scar and muscle and countless bruises.   
Alex flipped himself back, hands grabbing Yassen’s before Yassen had a chance to pin him.   
“The same one you loved?”   
Yassen chuckled and the tension, ever present, seemed to ease out of him.   
“The very same”   
The kiss, one Alex instigates, wasn’t searing and all consuming like their first one. It’s hesitant and gentle, the brush of lips and the butt of noses. It’s oddly everything Alex could want and more but he knows better than to give himself over to it completely. Even if Yassen will eventually make him.   
There was a neediness in them both after so much time spent apart, so much time yearning on Alex’s part, that although they took things slow, the intensity scared him. Alex, however, didn’t dare say I love you.   
Yassen stripped him carefully, kissing him in between as though he couldn’t get enough of the taste and Alex let his hands trail over the muscle that bracketed him. It felt so good. Worst of all it felt right. Perfect even. Because in both their cases it was never sex they were lacking, Alex had worked that out after his summer. It wasn’t intimacy that scared him and judging by Yassen’s experience it wasn’t a fear for him either. What scared them was commitment.   
They were each other's last link to a past they both craved and Alex for one knew how dangerous sentimentality could be. He’d had it weaponised against him at his time working for Mi6 and he’d never asked Yassen - never been allowed too nor had the time - to ask just how he’d gotten involved with Scorpia.   
Ian Rider had never committed to Alex, not really and so, his death hadn’t hurt. It had probably been calculated, on Ian’s part to make sure when it happened - when not if,in his line of work - Alex could go on unaffected.   
The first time Yassen died he’d sent Alex’s life spinning out of control with half gasped confessions and revelations. Commitment was deadly, love even worse.   
Alex let his hands get pinned as Yassen mapped his skin, worse for wear, with his tongue.   
Alex had had sex now. It wasn’t sex that made him feel this way. He wasn’t the touch starved lost boy he’d been when Yassen first got him but still, the pain Yassen caused just by touching him had nothing to do with the hands and everything to do with the man.   
Yassen was a maelstrom of confusing emotions for Alex and yet all of them made him feel so beautifully alive.   
“Yassen...” He couldn’t help but moan.   
Yassen took him like it was their last night on earth.   
Alex wondered if he knew something Alex didn’t but he couldn’t find it in himself to care when Yassen fingered him open. He’d woken up, every night he didn’t wake up screaming, to the feeling of Yassen’s fingers. As precise as his skills in the field he could wring pleasure out of Alex like it was his profession.   
This time was different though. This time they felt like like equals.   
Alex’s words from earlier had struck a chord in Yassen and it was clear from the way he let Alex ride him, slow and steady as Alex hand shot up to the wood ceiling above them in the small cabin to steady himself, eyes fluttering and moans breathy. Yassen watched him, held his hips in gun calloused hands with a quiet reverence. The night and the ocean held them in tenuous safety but Alex let himself forget the world for just a moment.   
Let Yassen role his hips up as Alex, stomach tense and chest shining with sweat, take him.   
Alex caught Yassen’s eyes, calm blue on muddied hazel and Alex could see it, in a way he’d never seen before, just how much Yassen wanted him. No wonder he’d run. It must have terrified him.   
Alex came fast. Pleasure over taking the pain that was etched into his body with a rolling, wave like calm that made his breath stutter in the quiet, save the gentle creaking of the boat.   
Yassen followed, arching up a little to catch Alex in a kiss that left him drooling and dazed before the man fell back, arms falling by the side of his head in quiet contentment.   
Alex watched, utterly enthralled by the domesticity of it.   
He imagined a life with him and Yassen. A fishing village maybe; on the edge of the world. Russia, if Yassen would go back. Maybe they’d have a dog, maybe Altermatt would never find them, maybe Mi6 would leave him alone. He could make good coffee and although the weather would be cold Yassen could keep him warm under layers of thick woolen blankets just like the ones they were under now. Yassen hooked an arm around him, pulling him into the crook of his armpit and Alex dropped an arm across Yassen’s chest; A comfort Yassen was offering out of nothing more than charity, Alex knew. In the morning they would have to talk. They would be forced to plan and forget about their feelings. Yassen was apologising.   
“What are you thinking about?” Yassen asked.   
“You” Alex answered honestly. “What we could do. Though I can’t imagine you in some peaceful rural bliss”   
Yassen snorted. Somehow making it sound oddly elegant.   
“I grew up in a rural town” He said, distant all of a sudden. “Though I wouldn’t call it blissful”  
Alex sat up a little, the revelation sent an odd chill through him, made his throat close as though he was going to cry but all he managed was a simple;   
“Oh”   
He didn’t dare ask how Yassen spoke so many languages, how he was so fit, if he grew up in small town soviet Russia. It probably wasn’t a nice story.   
“We’ll work something out” Yassen said, stretching as though he was perfectly calm about the whole thing. “Goodnight, Alex”   
Alex stayed silent, letting Yassen switch out the light. Moonlight trickled through the slatted windows to the right of the bunk over the couch where Alex had spent the last four days.   
He tucked his head into Yassen’s chest.  
And slept better than he had in months. 

A week passed. Yassen didn’t seem particularly concerned. Alex on the other hand became increasingly restless with their lack of plan, intel and dwindling resources.   
“We’ll run out of water-” Alex said while they played a game of poker with a pack of old cards Yassen had found in a cupboard below deck. Alex was losing.   
“What are you talking about” Yassen said “We’re surrounded by water”   
Alex looked over, unable not to laugh. Yassen could catch you off guard like that with the oddest little jokes. It never failed to make Alex chuckle.   
It was annoyingly perfect. It made Alex crave a life with Yassen. Even if it was on the run, evading capture at every turn. They could manage it together.   
“Don’t you want to know what’s happening?” Alex asked as they shopped at a port town somewhere in Greece. Yassen inspected a tomato.   
“Not really” He said easily. “They will be brutally planning my capture, torture and murder. I don’t care to know.”   
“I’d care to know” Alex picked up a coke. Yassen plucked it out his hand and replaced it with water.   
“You care to know everything” Yassen rolled his eyes. “It’s very tedious”   
Yassen could tell Alex wasn’t happy with the answer.   
“The less you try to know the less likely to get caught you are” Yassen said cooly. “If you take anything away from this trip, take that.” Yassen paused “Once I’m dead and gone”   
Yassen’s dark humour always made Alex desperately want to slap him.   
“How can you stay so calm?” Alex asked later.   
“Mi6 have been hunting me for years. Altermatt may be smart but he underestimates people and I’ve been at this longer than you” Yassen kissed him softly. “I’ll be angry when I need to be”   
Alex thought back to their first day on the boat, how angry Yassen had been, how stressed. Mostar must have been difficult for him too. 

They were off the coast of Turkey when one night, they hear footsteps above them. Alex’s eyes flickered open to the sound and he’s heart had instantly quickened. Yassen had already been up on one elbow, hand held to his lips. He got up silently. He was still shirtless and in a pair of worn out sweatpants, he slid up against the wall. Alex watched the light cut him into shadows, down the lean muscles on his neck. He looked prone, in his element and ready to strike.   
The door to the cabin opened and feet, boot clad came down and torch light flashed across the kitchen bunker, the walls, coming finally to rest on Alex but before the man could make a sound. Yassen’s bare hands were round his neck and in one slick twist and a snap the fully armoured man slumped. Yassen caught him before he made a sound and laid him gently on the ground.   
“We don’t have much time” He mouthed to Alex as he rummaged in the man’s pockets. Alex got up, feet just as silent and threw Yassen a jumper as he pulled on one of Yassen’s flannel shirts, the first he could find. He moved to crouch by Yassen who handed him a side arm, a revolver. Yassen took the semi automatic.   
Alex moved away and felt, oddly, a strange kindred with Yassen, as though they didn’t need to speak to understand each other. The deck above them creaked again. Alex listened.   
Seven people or so.   
He held up the fingers. Yassen shook his head and motioned a nine.   
Yassen moved first, silent and deadly he went up the stairs, bare feet making no sound at all.   
Alex followed close behind and back to back they stood on the deck. Nothing except the blackness of the water stood out to them. Radios crackled around the side of the cabin.   
Yassen motioned for them to move round and just then all hell broke loose.   
“There!”Someone shouted and the wood beside Alex’s head erupted into bullet holes. Alex flung himself to the deck, getting up he caught a shadow and shot. It cried out and fell.   
“Good shot” Yassen said.   
“Don’t patronise me” Alex muttered as Yassen took out two, one handed, still looking in Alex’s direction.   
“That’s four”   
“I’d guess there-”   
They both went silent, hearing the footsteps round the side of the little cabin at the same time. Yassen’s back pressed harder against his. Alex knew what Yassen was going to say before Yassen even said it and the two of them swapped positions, making their way to the curve of the wooden box.   
Alex heard Yassen fire a shot and as he looked out along the bow of the ship, he caught sight of where the ladder was. A man was by it and seeing Alex he opened fire, bullets snapping up the wooden deck and splintering it everywhere in a cloud of dust. Through it Alex steadied a shot but before he took it the man cried out, grabbing his chest. He turned to see Yassen behind him.   
“Too slow, little Alex” Yassen re-loaded with a shrug. the glint of a gun caught the dust cloud behind him and Alex pulled the trigger, watching the way the bullet skimmed Yassen, the man barely flinched as a voice cried out behind him.   
“Don’t bother thanking me” Alex smirked and Yassen rolled his eyes, touching the graze on his cheek where Alex caught him.   
“Close call-” But it was cut out as flood lights hit the deck. The wind ruffled Alex’s hair wildly and he stared up at what he realised were helicopters. Two to be precise and beyond the light, overly bright, was the outline of a yacht in the distance.   
The deck was suddenly full of personal, dropping from ropes and up from ladders. Well dressed polo-necked types with guns and knives strapped to their expensive cargo trousers. Yassen-types but lots of them. Alex’s heart sank.   
“Yassen” He could hear one say. Yassen nodded in response. “Didn’t think I’d see the day someone wanted you dead. I guess we all get sloppy with age”   
Yassen shrugged.   
“I’m not sloppy I’m just tired”   
The olive skinned man, maybe a few years younger than Yassen’s, lips turned up.   
“Is there a difference?”  
Alex felt hands on him, pulling his arms together and cuffs snapping over his wrists.   
“Who’s your friend, Yassen? I thought you didn’t have partners”   
“Leave him, Jerome” Yassen said, though his tone was more bored than anything.   
Jerome, or so he was being referred to, came closer. Boots loud even over the sound of the helicopters. The bright flood lights painted him clown like. He had a scar across his eye and his hair was greased back out his face. He had those same trained muscles that Yassen had and every movement seemed calculated. Alex swallowed.   
“Leave him? But why? He looks so uncannily like that boy spy the boss keeps going on about...But that can’t be” Jerome laughed, looking back over at Yassen. “He’s dead”   
Alex kept silent, eyes on Yassen’s pale ones.   
“But” Jerome said “This could be very good for us, Yassen. Mi6 are desperate you know. Budgets and all that. If they could make a trade for the boy and all the evidence, well, Altermatt might let you go, if you say you brought the boy yourself. I can see why you took so much work from him. He pays so well”   
Alex’s eyes flashed to Yassen, a plea not to trade him on his tongue. Yassen didn’t even look at him.   
Yassen shrugged. “Altermatt isn’t that forgiving”   
“You’re the worlds best assasin, Gregorovich. People will be gentle with you” Jerome flashed him a friendly, professional smile. “As for the world's most medling under 21. I can’t be so sure” He said before a fist came down hard on Alex’s cheek. He gasped as his nose crunched, feeling blood pool down his nostrils and into the back of his throat.   
“Lets go” Jerome said.   
They were pushed down the ladder onto a small speed boat, two guards each, Jerome and Alex and Yassen. Alex kept his eyes away from Yassen, unsure he could keep his calm if he looked over.   
“So what’s going on here?” Jerome lit a cigarette. “You two know each other?”   
“Professionally” Yassen said and then leaned back slightly. “I killed his uncle”   
Jerome hummed on the cigarette, thoughtfully.   
“And you?”   
“Got him shot in the chest on air force one” Alex said.   
Jerome looked over. “You were on air force one?”   
“A long time ago” Yassen shook his head. “And the president wasn’t there”   
Alex shifted uncomfortably against the cuffs that were stretching his stitches.   
“Altermatt is going to be so excited when he finds out you’re alive, Rider” Jerome said. “Really, I’m going to get the tip of a lifetime”   
“And what am I going to get?” Alex tilted his chin, chocolate eyes doing a good job of hiding his fear.   
“A bullet to the head or something to that effect” Jerome said. The speed boat sprayed black waves up into Alex’s eyes.   
“The world’s most talented spy and assassin, both presumed dead, on a boat together and you have history” Jerome rubbed his hands together. “How very exciting”   
“It’s a small world” Yassen said.   
“Indeed it is” Jerome smiled. “But it’s not like your other cases, Yassen. Altermatt is the quiet man, the beneficiary. He doesn’t like to get his hands dirty but he has the CIA under his thumb, China too and now” He pointed at Alex “Mi6. His lobbying power is unimaginable, his influence phenomenal and nobody even knows who he is. Hell, Mi6 had no idea who he was until he came to them and after tonight, He’s going to be the richest and most powerful man on earth and I’m going to be his go to hit man thanks to your little glitch of...sentimentality, Gregorovich”   
“Why did he get Yassen to kill Allesandro?” Alex butted in and Yassen shot him a look.   
“Alle-who?” Jerome asked. “Oh...That Italian hack. He killed off most of his employees to gain back all their money. With no authorities to hide his illegal activities from, he decided he’d rather have control of all the money. Alessandro was an embarrassment but he was smart, he hired you to protect himself”   
They came to a sleek black yacht. Alex could see the turquoise light of a pool on the second floor and lights from a dining room. It was quiet, save a few guards.   
“Up” Jerome demanded and Alex was pushed up and onto the deck. His ankle buckled and he cried out.   
Jerome laughed.   
“Oh that ankle still bothering you? That Achilles heel slash is one of my signature moves” He chuckled.   
“T-That was you?” Alex asked, groaning as he was hauled to his feet.   
“Not personally” Jerome shrugged. “Just told my men what to do. I had bigger fish to fry” His gaze flickered to Yassen.   
“How is your eye?” Yassen asked amiably.   
“Fine, thank you” Jerome replied.   
Alex watched the encounter before a voice interrupted them.   
“Alex! You’re alive! How wonderful”   
Altermatt.   
Alex could recognise the same sneery tone he’d first heard that night in the alps only weeks ago anywhere.   
“First of all” Altermatt made his way down the curving stairs to the bottom deck, hand holding the sleek black plastic like the whole thing was a bad infomercial. “I must congratulate you on the terrible shot you took in the alps. You completely missed my heart and then you took off before you checked to see if you’d finished the job!”   
Altermatt laughed, the same laugh Alex had heard him do all through the dinner that night. Fake. He held up a finger.  
“However you did ruin my families ski trip, so that I can’t forgive”   
Alex clenched his jaw.   
“But! You did save me paying either of these two lovely gentlemen to take out my associates”   
Yassen shifted a little as Jerome shot them both a grin. Alex’s nose curled in disgust.   
“They were your colleagues, they trusted you”   
“They trusted their chalet host too and look where that got them” Altermatt said, smirk spreading like a virus across his face. “Ah, so many variables to weigh up...I can’t decide whether you should live or die but luckily I don’t have to”   
A man in a suit stepped out from behind the glass panelled door.   
“This is my friend from your secret service. He’s been telling me all about you”   
The man was in his late twenties and Alex didn’t recognise him but he had the same stern, beaurocrat, military man face that Blunt did. He had wide rimmed glasses and curly hair, out of the circumstances he could easily be a banker.   
“Send Jones my regards” Alex sneered.   
“She sends hers” The man replied, adjusting his tie.   
“And Yassen?” Alex asked, regretting it instantly.   
Altermatt grinned, fox-like “Ah yes. You’re like two peas in a pod, you two. Fate just always throws you close, hm?”   
“It’s proffesional” They said, annoyingly in unison. Alex shot Yassen a look of annoyance.   
“Yet I did notice how you chose to keep Mr. Rider alive both times I asked you to kill him” Altermatt held out a finger.  
“That’s a historic occurrence between the two of them” The man from Mi6 said, coughing a little. “According to the records”   
Altermatt smiled. “A quiet man, such as myself, only needs a quiet assassin to get his jobs done and one who the world thinks is dead was perfect and, Gregorovich, your skills are unparalleled. You have it down to an art.”   
Yassen nodded, as though he was accepting the praise.   
“And yet, I send you to kill Alessandro and some failed teen soldier - and you know, they are dotted all over the world, I thought nothing of it - and yet, you hesitated. Now men like me may not say much but we do watch and I saw how you hesitated and I exploited it. I cannot help but wonder what Jack Starbright would think of your missteps, Rider. I guess people don’t learn from cautionary tales of caring too much”  
Alex paled and struggled in vain against the cuffs. Tears sudden and unexpected pooling in his eyes.   
“Shut your fucking mouth” He snapped.   
How on earth did Altermatt know about that? He’d never told Alessandro, he’d never told Yassen. Never told a soul. He began to shake, suddenly feeling out of his depth. How much did Altermatt know about him? how much had Mi6 told him?  
“When I was killing Allesandro for the money” Altermatt continued. “I had no idea I’d stumbled upon such a gold mine. Gregorovich and Mi6’s weakness...A very - forgive me - unremarkable nineteen year old boy”   
Alex bristled but said nothing, sniffling quietly.   
“But I was wrong” Altermatt said “You are remarkable. Those pictures show it”   
A murmur of laughter rang through the guards and personnel, even the man from Mi6 flashed a smirk.   
“Don’t. That’s not funny” Yassen said quietly but suddenly and even cuffed, even in a mustard yellow knitted jumper and loose sweatpants, they still stilled their laugher, a look of unsettled terror crossing their faces at Yassen’s tone.   
Alex couldn’t help but shudder. He always forgot just how deadly Yassen’s reputation was.   
“Off course” Altermatt cleared his throat. “I worry about your vengefulness, Gregorovich. Especially concerning this boy and so, you must understand, I cannot allow you to leave this boat alive”   
Alex felt cold all over hearing those words and his head whipped round to catch Yassen’s reaction. The Assassin merely shrugged. Blue eyes impressively impassive.   
“You overestimate my desire for revenge”   
Altermatt’s eyes met Yassen’s.   
“So did Sharkovsky”   
Yassen tensed and Alex watched in horror as Yassen Gregorovich blanched. His blue eyes widened, confusion and a hint of fear in them. The name meant nothing to Alex but it clearly meant a lot to Yassen who seemed to have paled.   
“How-” Yassen’s throat gave out on him.   
“I hear things” Altermatt said. “I hear things and I do not act and so people do not know that I know. In the words of Carlos Condit ‘It’s not the guy talking the loudest you got to worry about; It’s the quiet, humble guy that’s not saying anything. He’s the dangerous one” he leaned close, a hair's breadth from Yassen. “You underestimated me”  
“I am not a cruel man” He turned to Alex. “And so I will not make a boy suffer”   
He snapped his fingers and Yassen was dragged away. Alex watched him go.   
“Where are you taking him?” Alex asked. “Please- he’s-”   
“A man; I care less about.” Altermatt said to himself. “Listen to me, Rider. I will go and discuss”   
Alex felt his arms shake, his whole body trembling. Not Yassen too, he couldn’t lose Yassen. A slap caught him across the cheek, throwing his head to the side. Altermatt caught his chin.   
“I will go and discuss the terms of your release back to Mi6. They will decide if they want you alive or dead”   
Alex swallowed.   
“You, however, are a blacklisted wanted international assassin...so” Altermatt made a face, raising his shoulders. “Who knows what they’ll say”   
The world seemed to slide to one very specific pinpoint. They were going to kill Yassen. His own fate at the hands of the country he once called home seemed inconsequential.   
He was taken to a master bedroom and his cuffs moved around a large ornate bed post.   
“Stay” The guard said, accent thick.   
He heard something that sounded like a cry and his throat closed on him. It sounded like torture.   
He remembered Jerome’s face. Revenge for his scar maybe or revenge for the trouble and money Yassen had caused them. Either way they weren’t going to make this quick.  
Good. Alex was relying on it.   
Above him his fate was being decided. He would either go to jail or he would die. He’d killed people, many people. Under order from Alessandro and in self defense. He was not innocent and Mrs. Jones empathy did not stretch that far. She had fired him after all.   
Either way. His life was over. In prison he would have to deal with the guilt of letting Yassen die.   
His bare feet were cold. It was oddly one of the first things that came to mind. They were cold and very sore. Overly sore, actually. There was something inside his foot. He hadn’t noticed it bleeding in the crossfire or the encounter that followed.   
He pulled it up, uncomfortably stretched and saw a long bit of decking from the boat embedded there. It must have gone into his foot after the wood was shot. He pulled it out. It was long; about the size of his index finger and just as wide. Carefully he held it between his shaking hands. It was strong too and although it snapped easily down the middle, Alex could feel it would take more to break it across the side. This could work.   
He couldn’t see what he was doing, his hands were cuffed above him but he felt when the plywood entered the lock, he moved his left to the same place and began to twist. The lock clicked a little.   
Footsteps down the haul distracted him and the wood almost fell out his hand. He caught and kept going. A hand on the door knob and-   
“You’re needed Rider”   
He hung his head.   
The two guards came over and Alex sprang up, driving the now open metal cuff points into the guards eyes. He screamed a blood curdling scream but Alex didn’t care. Alex could care about nothing except getting Yassen back. The other guard rushed him, machine gun coming over his front to bracket and pull him. So they weren’t allowed to kill him. Alex’s feet jumped up to the flimsy wall kicking off and sending both him and the guard through a vanity mirror.   
The other guard was still screaming, holding his face and sobbing. Alex went for his gun but couldn’t reach it before the guard caught his bad ankle, hand prizing into the healing stitches.   
Alex howled and flipped himself up, pulling his foot down to unbalance his opponent. It worked and they both crashed to the ground. ALex moved first, his small and slender blood stained hands coming around the guards throat as he pushed his whole weight down.   
The man bucked and writhed but after a minute or so his body stilled.   
Alex grabbed a gun and pushed open the door. The yacht had a long corridor, beautifully decorated. At the end was a stairway up onto the deck Alex had come from above that another set of spiral stairs, dotted with little lights to the balcony he saw Altermatt head to.   
Up there they would be waiting for him but Yassen would be somewhere around here.   
But there was no point going after Yassen just now. Jerome was an assassin, just as skilled and just as experienced as Yassen. It wouldn’t be easy but if he went after Altermatt then Yassen could be dead by the time he came down.   
The smart part of him knew to go after Altermatt but he was not smart. He was Alex Rider and he didn’t do the smart thing. He did the right thing.   
The first door led nowhere, another bedroom and the third door still, just a cupboard for cleaning supplies. Alex kept moving, gun a perfect extension of his arm, he moved quietly through the boat as though he owned it.   
A scream caught his attention, masculine and well covered and he turned to a door that unlike the others was latched and metal. It must lead to the engine room. Alex unlatched it and it creaked loudly. He could hear voices, echoey.   
“Number one assassin; Yassen Gregorovich. You scream mighty pretty, Yassen”   
There was a grunt.   
“Don’t pass out, it’s only been half an hour! Altermatt has given unlimited access to you, so long as you die by the end. This day has many victories - money, tortue and best of all” Another pained gasp “Killing you. I always thought your quiet clean kills, your gentle nature, was all a bit pretentious if I’m honest. I’ll do a much better job”   
“And” Yassen’s voice was shaky, like how it had been on air force one. Alex shook his head to clear it. Don’t think about it. “You get to do it all with that cool scar I gave you”   
Yassen cried out in agony.   
“You know what I hate about your kid most of all; He’s so similar to you. Remember? All those years back when you just popped up as one of Scorpia’s little prodigies? You used to have such a grimace when you killed people, like it offended your sensibilities. He looks like that too”   
“I never wanted to be an assassin” Yassen’s laugh was pleasant and the words were emotionless but they shook Alex all the way to his core. He’d never wanted to be assassin? never wanted to kill anyone? Just like Alex had never wanted to be a spy. He felt his chest constrict and for the first time Alex moved with a genuine intent to kill.   
Jerome turned.   
“Oh speak of the devil-”   
The trigger had never felt easier to pull. Jerome fell lifeless to the floor. Yassen just stared at Alex, mild alarm on his usually impassive face. Alex tried not think of all the emotions Yassen had unwilling shown tonight. It was too much.   
“How’d you get out of those cuffs?” he asked, grimacing at the blood that had splattered on him.   
Alex wanted to laugh. That after everything that had happened and that Alex had heard, that’s all Yassen could say but they were similar in that sense too; They recovered fast.   
“Wood in my foot. I used it to pick the lock”   
“Lucky” Yassen commentated. Alex looked over him. His hands were tied to a pipe above a boiler, feet only just touching the ground. He was covered in nasty bruises but nothing fatal and then Alex looked down to his feet. The floor was blood stained and Alex saw with horror that strewn across the ground were Yassen’s toenails.   
“Oh my god” Alex couldn’t help it.   
“Look at me” Yassen snapped. “It didn’t hurt that bad”   
“You’re lying” Alex gasped, feeling a little overwhelmed. Yassen was hurt, tortured and it was odd and humiliating for Alex. He’d held the man to such a pedestal when he was a kid. WHEther it be born of hate or something else and now here. He thought of all the people he’d relied on, how they always ended up-  
“Alex” He heard. “Don’t think about it. Cut my hands down. Jerome has a knife in the pocket of his trousers”   
Alex fumbled for it. it was bloody on the serrated side. Alex almost gagged.   
“Good. Now come here” Yassen watched him. “Alex! Don’t overthink it”   
Yassen’s bare chest was heaving and he’d clearly been hit hard. By them lay a towel with one of the complimentary well wrapped soaps inside. Alex stared.   
“Alex” Yassen snapped. “I’m okay”   
“I know” Alex mumbled, cutting Yassen down he couldn’t help but throw his arms around him. Yassen’s came down on Alex’s shoulders. His weight was an odd thing to carry, after the times he’d bled and trembled and been terrified around Yassen, it was uncanny to have their roles reversed.   
“Just remember” Yassen cradled his chin as he stood straight. “Any bullet from any man could kill me at any point so-”   
“That’s not helping!” Alex snapped, slapping his hand into the firm plane of Yassen’s chest. Yassen chuckled even if it sounded pained.   
“Lets go” Yassen said, picking up Jerome’s custom revolver and reloading, throwing a spare clip Alex’s way from his automatic.   
The corridors were empty but Alex led the way along and up, hitting the main deck a group of guards, all dressed in cheap suits and chatting looked over in horror at a shirtless Yassen and blood Alex as they limped to the top of the stairs.   
The guards were clearly unsure whether they were allowed to shoot or not but Yassen broke the silence, three shots, direct to the head. Alex tried not to marvel. It wasn’t the time.  
“Come on, Alex” He heard Yassen say as he upper cut a man, kneeing him so hard in the chest blood came out his nose.   
“This won’t be pretty” Yassen was saying. “Altermatt’s pissed me off”  
Alex moved. Shots impressively accurate even if he felt a kick back of guilt ripple through him on everyone and all too soon, the deck was silent save for the pairs laboured breathing. They moved to stairs, Yassen limping and Alex’s breath stuttered.   
“It’s quiet” Alex said as they came up to the pool level. The colour splashed over Yassen’s face, painting it a pretty blue.   
“Quite” Yassen murmured.   
The glass panel that separated the indoors and the decking they were on exploded as a shower of bullets flew past them. One hit his shoulder, the other his calf and Alex almost screamed. Instead, he threw himself into the pool. Arms wrapped around him and he felt Yassen above him. They stayed under for a while and Alex began to feel the ring of asphyxiation in his ears. Yassen held a finger, eyes wide open even under water and then Yassen launched himself up for breath. Alex followed.   
“They’re using semi automatics....10 rounds I think” Yassen gasped. “They’ll be re-loading. Come on”   
Yassen hauled himself up and Alex noticed the blood that was left behind. He’d been shot.   
“We should go” Alex said suddenly. “Get a life boat and-”   
Yassen interrupted. “I’m sorry, Alex. Altermatt pissed me off”   
His tone was gentle, almost inconvenienced and just like that Yassen moved. Alex watched as he darted, even injured through the smashed glass. A spray came across the pool and Alex had to duck back down under the water. He’d never seen Yassen so driven.   
He counted and launched himself after Yassen but when he came into the room all was quiet.   
The guards were dead and the dinner table was overturned. A bottle of wine lay strewn across the floor and the sofa to the right was torn to shreds.   
Altermatt had his hands up and the Mi6 agent beside him was slowly crawling towards a gun.   
“Don’t move” Alex snapped, staring first at the man and then at Yassen who was staring at Altermatt with the coldest expression Alex had ever, ever seen.   
“You shouldn’t have mentioned my past so carelessly, Altermatt” Yassen said. “I would have been more amiable”   
“Yassen-” Altermatt said. “The money- with Jerome gone y-you and the bo-boy could work for me- and and I’ll drop the charges. Mi6 would leave us be! You have to understand Yassen...It wasn’t personal! it was just business!”   
“Have you ever played russian roulette?”   
Altermatt’s pleading stopped. Yassen dropped his rifle and pulled the revolver out his back pocket.   
“Swap” He said to Alex, taking the one from the guard on the boat from Alex and dropping the automatic into Alex’s bemused open palm.   
“Yassen-” Alex tried. They could go, they were safe, they were free.   
“Listen to your friend there-” Altermatt laugh was pitiful and nasally.   
“When I played before I changed the rules” Yassen spoke over them both. “Maybe little Alex should play too” Yassen mused.   
Altermatt laughed nervously. “Yassen-”   
Alex could only watched, stomach churning.   
“You were so interested in my past. You even had the nerve to bring it up in front of people. Trying to impress Mi6” Yassen checked the guns. “I can understand that. In my past I played with five bullets in the chamber and so we will do the same”   
“Yassen-” ALex tried again, more desperate.  
Yassen passed the gun over, held handle up to Altermatt. Who stared at it like it was a spider or his own dead dog.   
“W-wait” Altermatt said. “H-how do I know you haven’t messed with mine”   
“Fine then” Yassen said, eyes unreadable. He swapped the guns.   
Alex could feel his heart in his throat but Yassen’s calm was wearing off on him. Yassen held the gun to his head.   
“At the same time”  
Altermatt followed.   
“Three”   
“Two”  
Altermatt pulled the gun away from his head.   
“You think I’’d play by your rules?” He sneered.   
And fired all five rounds.   
Alex screamed, unable to help himself, it was ripped from his throat before he could stop it. But nothing had happened. ALtermatt stared in horror at the gun like it had betrayed him and Yassen, eyes disappointed held his own outright. Alex winced when the bullet ripped through Altermatt’s skull.   
The Mi6 agent moved again, kicking a bit of glass as he went for the gun. Alex held his gun steady and Yassen’s moved over to the man too.   
“No, Yassen!” Alex said and although Yassen tilted his head in confusion, he didn’t fire.   
Alex knelt.   
“Tell me about what you were going to do. Tell me about the deal-” Alex couldn’t keep the anger out his voice like Yassen could and the man trembled, blubbering.   
“You don’t need to know” He heard Yassen say above him.   
“Tell me!” Alex shouted.   
“Alex” Yassen’s hand was on his shoulder, his voice oddly gentle. “Leave it behind”   
Alex let out a shuddering breath. Yassen was right. He didn’t need to know, it would only hurt him. Mi6 could only be the past if Alex let them be. He stood.   
“You tell Jones to leave me the fuck alone. Take the pictures, do what you want with them but if anyone comes after me, I swear to god I won’t be so nice”   
Yassen watched him, a proud half smile on his lips.   
“Your lifeboat plan?” He offered.   
“More like speedboat” Alex said, limping toward Yassen. Yassen chuckled and clutched his side.   
“How bad?”   
“Not bad” Yassen winced. “And I’m not lying”   
It felt like lifetimes ago that Alex had climbed off the speeder and onto the yacht but getting back on it, it felt like no time at all. Yassen followed him, toes curled and face pinched with pain.   
They sped away. With the wind in his hair and sea air in his lungs, they went to find their boat.   
“What did you do back there?” Alex asked over the roar of the engine. “With the bullets?”   
Yassen gave him a pained, wry smile and adjusted himself. Hand on his stomach.   
“I didn’t load my gun but I did load his” He said. “I was going to impress you; winning and him dying but luck like that is a one time deal so-”   
“You cheated” Alex blinked.  
“Worked out” Yassen said. “When he asked to swap the guns I was worried and then-”   
“His face when he tried to shoot” Alex chuckled, moving the wheel and glancing briefly back at Yassen.   
“I know” Yassen said. There was silence.   
They had survived and it was hanging like a heavy blanket over them both. Yassen hadn’t expected to.   
“Jack...” Yassen said gently. “I didn’t know”  
“Don’t” Alex said, shaking his head. “Just...not now”   
He didn’t ask about Yassen or the Roulette.   
After today his past suddenly seemed like a leaf best unturned and there was nothing wrong with that. Maybe they’d never fully understand each other but they didn’t have to because Yassen knew enough about to life to understand Alex’s pain and had risked a lot, with barely half an inch of emotion, all those years back, just to see him and speak to him. He thinks back now to Yassen’s warning and couldn’t help but wish he’d taken it more seriously. Yassen gave him a smile, weak but open. 

“So” Yassen said after a moment. “Tell me more about this domestic bliss you keep talking about?”


End file.
